


you're the only light in my sky

by keithslance



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Requited Unrequited Love, Stargazing, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keithslance/pseuds/keithslance
Summary: Keith trusts Lance. He does, really does. That’s not the root of Keith’s problem right now, the one that’s crumpling his shoulders in and bending his spine so he curls in on himself like a flower hiding from the cold of the night. No. The thing that is weighing heavy on the back of his neck, that is pushing down until his knees bend and give out? He knows exactly what this is, which is making it that much harder to breathe.It’s not exactly easy being in love with your teammate when the universe is ending all around you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @marmoraskeith

There’s something about standing at a window and facing the universe that is humbling.

Imagine that. Keith scoffs a quiet laugh before his mouth slips back down into a straight line once more.

In truth, he still hasn’t figured out how he ended up here, staring out into the face of a million stars and galaxies and worlds with nothing but his breath fogging the glass standing an inch from his nose. Finding all the black in-between the lights reflecting in his eyes and wondering if it really is darkness or just pockets of space where even more stars are too far away for their light to reach him.

That’s a lie.

He knows why he’s here, alone once more in a section of the castle that no one tends to explore. It’s becoming a recurring theme for him, seeking isolation in this dimly lit corridor painted with the eerily soft blue light from the torches on the walls, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window out to the stars.

He’d stumbled upon this area after a particularly bad fight a week ago—was it a week ago? Time slips through Keith’s fingers like sand when there’s no sun on the horizon telling him that this is his third day without sleep—where he and Red had been the recipients of a direct hit from a plasma cannon.

They’d been in their individual lions, the flurry of Galra fighter ships too fast to attempt to form Voltron and try and take them out that way. Lance had been at Keith’s six, had told him with a crow of delight that he’d just taken out his eighteenth Galra ship, and “Suck it, Keith, I’m gonna win _again_ ,” because Lance likes to keep score and Keith likes a challenge.

Except when that challenge becomes a distraction and Lance chooses to do some stupid, over-dramatic maneuver to take out the next fighter ship instead of watching Keith’s flank like he was supposed to.

They survived. Of course they survived. But the primal flood of fear that shot through Keith’s veins at the moment of impact, the terror that locked his muscles up like iron as his connection with Red fizzled, then exploded with her pain—it was enough to send him spiralling. It’d become a cacophony of concerned shouts in his ears, alarms blaring and lights flashing as his hand controls went slack before catching again as he guided her out of the fray.

Needless to say, it hadn’t been a happy homecoming. Shiro was the first to arrive at Keith’s hangar, worry bleeding into his reassurances that they were going to fix her up, that it wasn’t that bad, Keith, she’ll be okay. He hadn’t tried to touch Keith; he knew from their previous years that when Keith gets wrenched into a certain headspace, it’s best to step away. Shiro had let Keith tear his helmet off and grip it in front of his chest so hard that his joints began to ache. Had given him time to catch his breath while his heart was still jack-rabbiting in his chest.

That’s when Lance had come in. Fuming, waving his arms around like the drama queen he is, spewing out words that Keith couldn’t hear, couldn’t even begin to understand, because there were oceans roaring in Keith’s ears and everything was making the pounding in Keith’s head even worse. Then, like magic, the roaring stopped just in time for Keith to hear Lance say, “—and if you had just _trusted_ me—”.

Everything went red.

The only thing Keith remembers is the clatter of his helmet falling to the floor and his hands finding the chestpiece of Lance’s armor to shove him as hard as he could. That, and the shattered look on Lance’s face when the words, “ _Trust_ you? If you want me to trust you, then start giving me a _reason_ to!” slid off his tongue like acid.

Even thinking about it again is making Keith’s hands shake. He takes a deep breath and places his palms to the glass, facing out, like an offering.

That’s not the point. That fight wasn’t the point. It was a casualty of war, a very real reminder of the battle they’ve been burdened with. Red is fine; Hunk spent all night with Keith, finding the new parts and wires she needed and even fashioning a new outer plate to replace the one that the cannon had taken off with its blast. It’s not even the first time something like this has happened to them. But for some reason, it had completely thrown Keith off-kilter, eating into his heart with blackened, needlepoint teeth and leaving a residual ache in his chest that still hasn’t gone away.

Keith trusts Lance. He does, really does. That’s not the root of Keith’s problem right now, the one that’s crumpling his shoulders in and bending his spine so he curls in on himself like a flower hiding from the cold of the night.

No. The thing that is weighing heavy on the back of his neck, that is pushing down until his knees bend and give out? He knows exactly what this is, which is making it _that much_ harder to breathe.

It’s not exactly easy being in love with your teammate when the universe is ending all around you.

The moment that thought passes through Keith’s mind, he grimaces, pressing a hand to his face as he lets himself fall the rest of the way to the floor, legs sprawled in front of him without a care. His chest feels tight, like he’s a music box and someone stuck a key through his ribs, wound him up, cranked it two times too many, and now he’s broken, unable to loosen the spool of emotions crushing his lungs.

Keith’s fingers tighten on his face. It’s like this is all one big cosmic joke. He’d been seeking a greater meaning by himself, out in that desert. Had honed in on that energy but hadn’t been able to decipher what it _meant_. Then Lance came along, with his self-proclaimed rivalry and his big mouth and erratic piloting. And somewhere along the way, Keith’s irritation had morphed into something warmer. Redder. Deeper, clawing its way into his heart and mind with no regard as to what Keith wants, which _isn’t this_ , thanks very much.

Letting out a soft huff, Keith drops his hand and raises his head to look back through the window. Now that he’s sitting, he makes a half-hearted attempt to cross his legs and shuffles forward until his knees are pressed to the glass. Staring out into space once more, Keith counts his breaths. Five seconds in, eight seconds out. The pane fogs up with each long exhale, misting his view temporarily before fading away when he begins his next inhale. It helps. It’s calming, settling his nerves that are on fire for no reason other than his own anxiety over an impossible situation.

“...Keith?”

Oh, God. Not now.

Closing his eyes, Keith takes one more measured breath in through his nose before letting it out. He turns his head to his left, his heart jumping then plummeting into his stomach when the person he sees matches the voice that just spoke his name.

“Hey, Lance,” Keith croaks, his voice raspy from disuse. Clearing his throat a little, he turns back to the window, to the stars and all their little lights. He really wanted more time here, to just sit in this feeling and sort it out as best he could in the near-silent hum of the ship with only the company of the universe, but it obviously wasn’t meant to be. “I’m just—” Keith bites his bottom lip, then shakes his head, getting ready to push back onto his feet. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Hey, no, don’t,” Lance rushes out, waving his hands in front of his chest to stop Keith. Keith does pause his movements, staring up at the boy who is usually the picture of confidence. Not tonight, though. There’s something about the way Lance is holding himself that betrays him as vulnerable, and Keith can’t help but stare. “You were here first, it’s–it’s okay.”

Keith blinks, his muscles relaxing to settle him back down on the floor in his original sitting position. “You… You come here too?”

Lance’s eyes widen marginally before an awkward laugh breaks from his lips. He shrugs a shoulder and opens his mouth, undoubtedly about to protest and make up some excuse as to how he knew the way to this one particular window out of all the countless other ones around the ship, but then he stops. In a heartbeat, his face falls, and for the first time that Keith’s ever seen, Lance looks tired. Bone-tired, stripped down and washed out. New lines of exhaustion are fanning from the corners of his eyes and pulling down his mouth, and Keith aches. Aches with the need to push to his feet and press the pad of his thumb between Lance’s eyebrows to smooth the frown away.

Keith stays where he is.

Finally, Lance lets out a sigh and walks forward until he’s an arm’s length away from Keith before easing himself down to the ground too. He bundles his mile-long legs against his chest and wraps his arms around them, chin resting on his knees as he looks out at the stars. Keith just stares, tracing the sharp angle of Lance’s nose and the fan of his eyelashes, short but dark.

“I found it a while back.” Lance’s voice is soft. “Couldn’t sleep one night and just…” he trails off, shrugging one shoulder again before pressing his mouth into the tops of his knees. Keith stays silent, waiting him out, desperate to hear more of these sleep-hoarse words.

Eventually, Lance pulls his mouth away to speak once more. “Just found it. Have no clue what I was trying to run away from, but I got turned around, y’know?” Lance’s voice cracks right before his head turns, and suddenly Keith is being held prisoner to a crooked grin and a pair of the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. “This place is hella confusing, am I right?”

“Right,” Keith breathes out, his hands slowly tightening into fists in his lap. It’s the only thing he can do to try and transfer some of the pressure building in his chest to another part of his body so he doesn’t spontaneously combust on the spot.

“So I come here sometimes,” Lance continues, turning back to the window. It’s almost like he’s speaking to himself now, instead of to Keith. Like a switch has been flicked and he can’t stop the words from flowing, so they come out as one long train of thought, never-ending, on a track that has no end. “Just to think, y’know? To remember. That’s what I’m most scared of, I think. Forgetting. Not being able to remember their faces. Or the taste of my favorite foods. Stupid, right?” He laughs. It sounds wet. One look at Lance’s face and Keith sees he’s right. The tear tracks below his eyelashes are shining in the light of the stars before them.

“No,” Keith says quietly, forcing his eyes back to the glass. The lump in his throat is making it hard to breathe. “That’s not stupid at all.”

Lance doesn’t reply. They both sit there, side by side, with the canvas of the universe stretching before their eyes. Keith becomes very _aware_ ; aware of his own trembling breaths, of the beat of his pulse in his neck, of the hum of the ship and the way Lance’s forefinger is dragging back and forth absentmindedly on the top of his knee.

Taking a deep breath, Keith lifts his left hand and presses his forefinger to the pane. It’s cold, but he drags it up to a bright blue star just above shoulder-level. He sees Lance’s eyes flick over to watch his movements and tries to ignore the trickling waterfall of heat that is pooling in his stomach because of it.

“Let’s make our own constellations.”

Lance’s head is off his knees and fully facing Keith now. “What?”

“I miss the constellations,” Keith tells him in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’d sit on my porch every night and find them. It was easy, in the desert. No light pollution, no noise.” His heart hurts. “Just the stars.”

“Just the stars,” Lance echoes.

Keith swallows hard and blinks away the prickling building in his eyes. “So let’s just make our own,” he says again, tapping his finger against the glass on the star he’s picked out. “What are we connecting this one to?”

For one agonizing minute of silence, Keith believes he just ruined everything. That Lance is going to laugh at him, scoff and stand up and tell him how stupid this is. His entire body is vibrating with nervous electricity, and he has to fight to keep his finger where it is on the pane, to not just pull back and run away as fast as he can.

But then Lance’s finger is stretching forward, hesitating a beat right before it taps the glass right above Keith’s knee. “This one. The red one.”

Keith squints. “The one surrounded by two smaller stars?”

“No, no, the–the _other_ one, to the left of that one.”

“Oh!” Keith bites back a smile, then nods quickly, peeking out of the corner of his eye to watch Lance’s face. “Okay. Now what?”

Lance squints through the window, taking in everything in front of them with a calculating pout to his mouth. “Okay, so yours connects to mine which connects to these two here and this one here—” Lance uses the three fingers on his other hand to point out another place, this time around Keith’s chest. He has to scoot closer to Keith to do it, and their knees brush accidentally, sending a shockwave exploding through Keith’s body that nearly causes him to fall over. He remains upright, however, and bites the inside of his cheek to focus on what Lance is still saying. “—think if we did a pattern like this, then we could name it Voltron.”

Keith snorts. “Voltron? Really? That’s what you’d name the first constellation you ever made?”

“ _We_ ever made,” Lance corrects him with a lopsided smile. “And yeah. I mean…”

Keith looks at him. His breaths are coming a little faster now, shallow and tight. He wasn’t ready for this to happen tonight. The glass is warm beneath his finger now. “What?”

“It brought me you,” Lance croaks out, and Keith isn’t breathing anymore. Their eyes meet and something snaps in the air between them, or maybe that’s just Keith’s imagination. He isn’t sure any of this is real anymore. Lance’s cheeks tinge red, and now suddenly, he’s stumbling over his words. “You _guys_ , I mean.” The hole in Keith’s stomach yawns open and sucks his heart right down into its pit. “Everyone. It brought us all together, and–and it’s hard, God, we all know it’s hard, but… with all of you here, it makes it just a little bit easier, y’know?”

Clenching his jaw, Keith looks away, back out into the sky. “Sure,” Keith says, thankful that his voice isn’t shaking as he lets his finger fall away from the window. He was sure it would be. “Yeah, I hear you.”

If Keith didn’t know any better, he would think that Lance was gearing up to say something else. He’s leaning towards Keith, his fingers skidding down the glass like an afterthought, and maybe—

But no. Lance’s arms are pulling back, wrapping tight around his legs once more, and his chin is back on his knees.

If that isn't a sign, then Keith doesn't know what would be. With a deep breath, he slowly pushes off the ground and to his feet, his knees popping as he does so. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith can see Lance staring up at him, and there's a glint in his eye, a shine that makes Keith think there's a question there, one he's dying to ask. Then he remembers that phrase, the one that speaks of people seeing only what they want to see, and he manages a wry smile as he shakes his head at himself.

"I'll..." Keith jerks a thumb over his shoulder, back towards the common room. "I'll give you some space, okay?"

Lance sits up straighter, his brow furrowing. "You don't have to—"

"It's okay!" Keith insists. "You said that's what you came here for, right?"

"But—"

"I'll see you tomorrow," Keith interrupts again, forcing a weak grin as he takes a step backwards, then another. He has to get out of here before the black hole in his chest swallows him completely. "Don't... Don't stay up too late, all right?"

He can see the muscle in Lance's jaw twitching right before Lance gives him a jerky nod. "Yeah. Yeah, man. I'll be fine."

"Good." God, Keith, shut up. "Okay. Goodnight, then." It takes all of his willpower to turn his body away and put one foot in front of the other to take him away from the one place he wants to be most right now. He only pauses for a second when he hears the soft reply of, "Goodnight, Keith". It was barely above a whisper.

With a heavy heart, Keith clenches his fists and breathes out. One foot in front of the other. Walk away before he does something stupid and irreversible. There's nothing left of the wall around his heart, not after Lance gave him that smile as he said the word ' _we_ '. All he can do now is find solace in the darkness of his room and a blanket pulled over his head, casting him in an eternal night with no stars to remind him of the brightest one that just whispered his name.

Behind him, still seated on the floor, Lance releases a shaky breath that matches the tremble in his fingers. After the sounds of Keith's footsteps fade, he allows himself to run his fingers gently across the glass until he finds the spot where Keith's finger had been just moments before. Closing his eyes, he smiles softly.

It's still warm.


End file.
